Coping With Heartbreak
by RyokoMist
Summary: Terry's been gone from Gotham and Max for a while, but now that he's back and trying to make Gotham safe and right his wrongs he finds that Max has picked up a nasty little habit. Can they return back to normal despite so much that's happened during the time apart? Or have they even changed as much they think? Terry/Max one-shot


_TODAY IS POST-DAY! Four stories, one day. Keep me in your author's subscriptions. There is an update for: "The Bite: Afterlife" (Chapter 13), there will be this oneshot, another Terry/Max one-shot called "If Too Close" and a Firebreather one-shot called "Reconcile" (Duncan/Isabel). Enjoy POST DAY!_

_**Coping With Heartbreak**_

He saw her standing there outside the subway about a couple blocks from her apartment – still as beautiful as he remembered. Two years hadn't changed Maxine Gibson in the slightest: not even the pink in her hair seemed to show the weariness of time passed. But things had changed: Gotham had changed. It was a hell hole now, and for weeks he was working overtime to ensure that things got back to normal…well, what was generally "normalcy" for a city full of corruption. Batman was back. It was time everybody got the message. Including these punks! A group of T's hovered round about his genius best friend, stepping in closer with what appeared to be twisted smirks on their faces. "I'm going in," Batman told the senior citizen and retired vigilante on the other end of his com device.

Bruce Wayne's voice however responded rather unsure, "They don't seem like a threat if you ask me."

Batman rolled his eyes. "You've been in retirement for WAY too long Bruce." He knew what these maniacs were capable of – and knew that they had a special infatuation with beautiful women. One of the T's outstretched a hand for her. "Not tonight," he declared, landing with his feet slamming into the back of the T and knocking him unto the ground with enough force that rendered the villain unconscious with a groan of discomfort. He saw her gasp: liking the sound of her surprise. That's right baby. Have no fear: Batman is here.

The T's took a step back in bewilderment. "Yo, it's the Bat! The rumors are true. He's back!" Batman smiled. How wonderful it was to hear the fear in his enemy's voices yet again. Never again would he take a "sabbatical" from good ole Gotham. "Back off Batman," one of the gang members threatened. "We ain't doing nuthin' wrong!"

The Dark Knight cracked his knuckles. "You're harassing the pretty little lady. You dregs got 'til the count of three to beat it. Or I will."

"Hey!" Max exclaimed with a bitchy hand on her hip. "Anybody wanna hear what I have to say about this?"

"NO!" came the reply from everyone around.

Batman stood at the ready, shifting a gaze about at the six – no seven – T members with a chuckle. He was going to get in a good workout tonight. "One…" and without another word or warning he lunges, brawling with gang members viciously until they all had fled from the scene dragging with them their wounded. Batman turned and looked the woman he knew so well up and down contently. Was it possible for her to develop any further than she had when they were in high school? Her pink hair had grown out a bit, but she shaved the back down and kept it full of body and fluff on top in a style that blended the undercut and faux hawk brilliantly. Gibson looked far more mature now, and he guessed in the time that passed that was only natural. She had turned on the blue and white high top gym shoes from the direction of the fleeing T's back for Batman. Her hips were widened in the dark grey cotton spandex pants she wore. Her visible mid-drift fully flat and toned tauntingly with faded abs as her large and perky breasts sat attentively in the dark grey equivalent to the yellow and black shirt she wore in high school (the difference with this was the top portion was blue, and it a crop top with short sleeves). Her body was curved to ultimate perfection. He'd been gone waaaaaaaaaaay too long. "Hey Max," Batman practically purred with that signature cocky grin of his.

He expected a smirk or a hug, or some form of joy at his arrival. What Batman did NOT expect was the low growl emitting from Gibson's throat and the aggravated stare which she gave unto him. With an adjustment of her medium sized black purse she hisses out, "You…idiot." That was the only verbatim Max allowed him before spinning on her heels and storming off down the street towards her apartment building, ignoring his calls of protest with annoyance.

There was a brief silence on the comlink before Wayne took a deep breath; but his protégé cut him off before the old man had the chance to get it out. "Don't you dare say it, Bruce."

"Hmph, well your stubbornness and refusal to accept when you're _wrong_ hasn't changed a bit." Bruce smirked at the snarl that answered him.

* * *

Oh she was mad, infuriated…sad. Max's foot taps in aggravation as the elevator makes its way much too slowly for her floor. Quiet, still moments pass with excruciating impatience before the doors finally open and allow the neon pink haired dame to storm for the apartment she called home. Home. That word did nothing but piss the teen off even more. And yet she never found the strength to find someplace better – so what right did she have to complain? Here she forced herself to stay: in this apartment that hadn't been "home" in long time.

Without much thought Max slams the door of her apartment closed and thrusts her belongings upon the kitchen counter. Her fingers itch towards the bottom drawer when she suddenly pauses and growls. Gibson faces the living room couch. She wasn't exactly sure _where_ but the girl points her blackish purple nails accusingly and demands, "Get out!"

"C'mon Max, this isn't fair." A form covered in a midnight black suit and flaring red bat shaped insignia evaporates on the sofa with a pleading look. Wow, she was getting good.

"Don't talk to me about fair Terry," Max counters in a blatantly hostile tone.

Batman pulls back the cowl giving full view to his face, that handsome face that Max had always admired – more than she had anything else. "Will you just talk to me?" the neo-Batman pleads. "Look, I know you have every right to be mad, but I'm here now. That changes everything. What's the problem?"

Max grunts. "There's nothing to say. You didn't say a word to me, did you?" Right now she didn't care about how it looked – or how heartbroken he looked; not after all that had happened _because_ of him. "You're damn right it changes everything. The problem, McGinnis, is: you up and chased after Dana all the way to Rancho Cucamonga – for TWO YEARS, TERRY! You obviously didn't give a Mach 5 flying twip about Gotham or your duties as Batman – and you sure as hell didn't care about the people closest to you either. And for what?" Max declares in frustration. "Dana moved on! She got knocked up and is gonna marry the guy."

McGinnis's brows narrow. "Max-," he warns low.

"You think you had it bad? Gotham went downhill after Gordon got hospitalized. People were dying. You've got a family and a home to fall back on. I didn't have that liberty. My parents and sister left me here. I was on the verge of going homeless because my job went under and I got fired and couldn't pay rent. If it wasn't for the old man I'd be on the streets! You were gone for so long yet you think I'm going to jump up and down in joy because you're back when it's convenient for you?" Max questioned with a raised brow of angered amusement.

"Yes!" Terry yells. "Because I just saved your life!"

"You _embarrassed_ me!" Gibson contradicts, causing the room to grow silent. Confusion flooded the Batman's features as he struggled to make sense of what she'd just said. Embarrassed? "The T's weren't going to hurt me. One of the members is an old friend and a few years back I patched him up. He's been bringing his guys to me for years. They wouldn't hurt me if credits were placed on my head. They're my friends, Ter."

Terry's eyes widen in disbelief as he sways slightly. "Wait…you're _friends_," the young man practically chokes out, "with the _T's_?!" Just what in the hell had been going on while he was away?!

"That's what I said."

McGinnis closes the distance between them and grabs Max's shoulders shaking her vigorously as if attempting to jolt her mind back to its senses – senses which she evidently had lost over the two years that he was gone. "Are you INSANE? That's like me drinking morning coffee with Mad Stan! Or Bruce actually laughing with the Joker!"

"Oh trap it," Max threatens shoving him off with a frown. "Don't act all concerned now. Get out!" She reaches into the drawer in a blurred motion before darting for the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Batman's fist pounds against the door causing it to tremble under the force of the hero's blows. Max backs away until her body touches the sink; pleading quietly within that the old friend would just leave. Moments pass until finally her silent wish is granted as the pounding and voicing stops and the apartment grows still with silence. With a heavy heart Max reaches back over the bathtub and turns the knobs slowly – allowing the sound of running water and the warming sensation of steam to soothe her. The packet sits comfortably on the sink as Max eases out of her clothes and carefully edges her body into the hot water.

Seeing Batman tonight had resurrected so many memories and emotions; though anger had become dominant and for that Gibson felt ashamed. She wanted so badly to be happy that he was here once more, yet the sense of betrayal always lingered even after all these years. Max leans her head back remembering the turmoil Gotham had endured since Terry left and Gordon's car accident. Love struck fool. Barbara had came up with some story that Batman had been severely wounded in a plant explosion and that now it was time for Gotham to care for itself and no longer rely on the vigilante who foolishly threw his life into danger on their behalf – and the people believed it…idiots. She soaks there for quite some time, losing herself in the moment of peace that enveloped the bathroom before finally deciding to bring her stillness to an end. Wrapping a towel about her delicate body and grabbing the pack Max opens the door with caution and looks around. Coast clear.

The downpour of unexpected rain pounded heavily against her windows as Max made her way to the bedroom as bathwater trickles down her frame in a smooth gesture as she cracks the window before plopping on the bed. Gibson opens the packet pulling out a perfectly crisp white cigarette. Yeah. Cigarette. With a sensual cross of the legs Gibson takes her lighter and ignites the end before leaning back upon her elbows, putting the cigarette into her lips and sucking in. Allowing the vapor to sit inside the young woman's mouth and dance upon her tongue for a moment Max finally blows it out and watches the smoke dance majestically in the air upon exit before finally turning into a plain blob of cloudy smoke. This habit started about a year ago when she was about to lose her place. There was nowhere else she'd be able to retreat to, and the world was turning gray around her. Plus the guy she cared about who should've stayed by her side had abandoned her. Max sighed. She supposed her own stubbornness played a decent role in the predicament that she'd been forced in – her pride was too great to ask for help from the people closest around her. Somewhere she had hoped that she could do it on her own…or even more that Terry would come riding in on a black stallion known as the Batmobile and save her – but he didn't.

Confusion…Lost…Depression. Max had nothing left, but she wasn't one to just check out and quit, so the suicide rate that had skyrocketed within Gotham wasn't an option for Gibson to partake in. She'd rather suffer slowly…painfully. That's how she was losing everything after all – and somewhere in her mind Terry had made it clear by leaving that she meant nothing to him. Dreg. Life was spiraling out of control for her and the city and for the first time Max didn't know what the hell to do. That's when she bought the first pack of Kools. She couldn't see herself smoking it for real – so she'd just let the smoke sit in her mouth before extinguishing it into the atmosphere. And though Max Gibson really couldn't grasp the whole concept at first she had to admit that something about the action did somewhat relieve the stress and tension that would often constrict her mind. Cigarettes became her coping mechanism – and it worked; even after Bruce Wayne hired her as his personal secretary slash nurse. Girl had enough money to buy a house if she wanted; but yet here she remained – the apartment that only kept alive the constant memories of Terrence McGinnis; the boy she for so long secretly had feelings for, her best friend, the one who left her to suffer alone.

A flare of pain erupts through her chest as she releases another wave of smoke and lays back on the bed, right arm covering across her eyes as tears flooded down Max's cheek and the cigarette rested between her fingers. But Max had come to realize that it wasn't Terry leaving per say that hurt her – what she was most angry at was the fact that he had left to chase after Dana: the girl who wanted to move on from him. Why couldn't he just let her go? Why couldn't he just stay here and be at Gibson's side? Even if they never got together Max would have been content! Him knowing how she felt naturally frightened her; frightened her with the possibility of things not working out and the two going their separate ways. He was her best friend first. As long as Terry could've been at her side Max would have been okay with it. But a voice told her the thing that she had always feared: that when it came to it, Maxine Gibson was and never would be enough. She didn't matter…Damn. It hurt so bad. "It hurts…Terry," she whispers to herself completely unaware that she wasn't alone.

He had stayed. Something within the young Batman recognized a deeper struggle than she would let on in her anger and pain filled words that his best friend had spewed. Something struck a chord inside of him that urged Terry to seek for more – to gain a better understanding of where she was coming from; of where her hurt had lied. He stood in the bedroom and turned on his camouflage as the bath water ran: and Terry McGinnis made a call to the one person that he knew would have more information for him. For that time, Bruce explained everything that she could not: all her troubles and worries in which Max had confided in him about…and even the ones that she didn't mention but the great detective was able to figure out on his own. Never in his life did he imagine what she went through – and he realized that the aggressive outburst was one that he deserved. It was naïve of him to ever think that everything would be normal upon his return; Terry understood that now.

And watching her stroll so wearily into the room with a cig in her hands only added to the fluster of guilt within him. He caused her take on cigarettes? Ok, well maybe that blame didn't rest solely on McGinnis's shoulders but he sure as hell had a part to play in the forming of Max's new habit. Now she was crying. A part of him wanted to sneak out of the room undetected and leave her alone altogether, no longer being responsible for her disappointment or suffering. But McGinnis yet stood firm. No. Max had been left alone for long enough.

The mattress suddenly shifts slightly with an extra added weight. Max can feel the tension at each side and warmth brushing against her arm and face. Gibson removes the blockage of vision from her eyes only to gasp in appall at the sight of Terrence McGinnis hovering on top of her, looking the female straight into the eyes with a determination, a resolve which left her dumbfounded and, perhaps even, afraid. Afraid that even though no words had been uttered, that he _knew_ it all – and would fight her in every way possible to cease it. Could she trust her heart to trust him again? Did she want to? "Terry?" Maxine whispers in bafflement.

His brows furrowed in that typical stare that he wore oh so well. "Max…"

"You're here? Still?" Somehow her voice seemed weak compared to the hostility she'd exerted earlier; and that made his stomach pang in condemnation.

"I'm not leaving you, Max. Not again." He gauged her expression, the confusion that laid there. Good. At least she wasn't attacking the vigilante again. "I realized something in California: all this time there was a girl who loved me, who'd been by my side since the very beginning. She may have been just as stubborn as I was, or reckless and hard headed," Terry grinned at her annoyed frown, "but I wouldn't want to change her for anything. She was my rock; and always somehow managed to keep me in line. She was never afraid of telling me I was wrong – and I always accepted her rebukes because in the end, being with her was always so right." Terry sat up, running a hand through his black locks as he struggled to find the words that he needed to express next. Only when his icy blue eyes looked back at her as she now sat up and clutched the towel about her body with features that yearned for an explanation was he able to find his voice. "I fell for that girl – and she's you, Max. I screwed up, but I am not making that mistake again. That's why I came back: yeah for Gotham, and my family…but for you too. I realized on the other side of the country just how much you meant to me – I just hate what you had to go through in the process."

She could find no words. He had been here all along. He...wanted her. A tear threatens to overrun the banks of her eye as Max quickly wipes it away. There was a part of her that wanted to call him a fool, to kick him out, to pretend that those glorious words had never been spoken…but she couldn't. Her dark irises focused on him as he peered into her soul and ripped every ounce of anger and disdain and inferiority right out of Gibson as if they had never been there in the first place. He was all she had wanted. Terry shakes his head slowly and leans forward yet again, gently forcing her to lay back upon the sheets as the young man's frame pressed deep against her own. "Max…damn it you know what I'm saying right?" His lips approached hers, his eyes searching through her own in desperation as the young hero fought the urge to kiss her…an urge that nearly drove him mad. Terry had to know… "Say something…" he breathily begged. "I love you…"

That was all she needed to hear, and what she did next was all the response that he needed. Max wrapped her arms about his shoulders and neck, intertwining her fingers through his raven strands of hair as she drew their lips together in a kiss that blossomed and burned and evolved into a passionate fire that had been doused over the years foolishly and unnecessarily. He clings onto her, squeezing every ounce of length that Max was against him, melding their bodies together. Max dropped the now dead cigarette upon the floor while her thighs cling to McGinnis's waist for dear life – refusing him to ever leave. She'd fight for him now. His lips danced upon hers as their breaths caught and labored. "I love you; I missed you; Don't leave me; I won't," they mutter to each other between inhales. Terry gripped the towel and began to pull it off of her frame. Nothing would ever tear them apart…again.

_THE END_


End file.
